All this shit to be proud of
A book deal
Some hotshot’s new assistant
My house is almost done
And the fuckedest thing of fuckedest thing
Is the capper
That the girl called
And wants to say hello
And granted verily
Thar be a chance
She will not show
But that doesn’t make me
Not like her
That just means
She’s like most other women
But when she’s here
It’s easy to believe in myself
I guess
As scatalogically 80s as that bullshit sounds
All past history and irrelevance aside
So I’ll put on deodorant
I’ll wear my best shirt
I will slip out of work clothes
Into jeans with only a few stains
And ready my hand
As she walks up the path
For a handshake or an ass crack
But regardless
She’s not like most other women
And though I am probably seeming
Like some kind of stalker right now
Fuck you
Stalkers intend harm
And fuck you
I’m the one being stalked here
You just can’t see the damned demon
And I don’t want to fuck her clothes
I just want to see her
And anyway
The last stanza just sounds like
I’m disproving my own assertion
And anyway
No one’s going to see this
So why am I still writing?
So I can have 1800 in a bag?
No. It’s because
Though I may not be hers
She’s my woman
Fuck you.